The silver necklace dangles from my neck as nervous thought circle in my head. I look out into the audience, my hand firmly grasping the frail neck of my wooden instrument. I slowly take my seat as my conductor enters the stage. The sound of strings playing various songs and scales can be heard in the background as I run the silver circle up and down its long, bumpy chain. But how did I get here? To only see my parents in the crowd, no one else?

        The thumb prints of my grandma and grandpa are on that necklace along with all the good and bad memories, smiles and laughter shared, and the love and longing to be together again some day. It's almost like their love and and dreams for me are caught in there. Every time I put it on I feel like they are giving me a tight, warm hug and with that everything will be alright. I remember the day my mom gave me that remembrance of them. Her hands rummaging around in her pocket, lifting out the most beautiful and sentimental piece of jewelry. As we stood in the middle of the funeral home, the scent of flowers and the damp, musty feeling of tears cloud judgments as I reach over and grasp the chain firmly and lay it around my neck.

      My grandma and grandpa were amazing people. My grandma was a true angel sent from above with curls of pure gold and a smile that would light up an entire room. My grandpa, the total opposite, was as tough as a brick wall, but when he loved someone it was bold and true. My parents dropped me off at their house ten hours a day three days a week, and i loved every second of it. From toast cut into four with butter in the morning, to playing dolls and watching cartoons with my grandma every moment was perfect. Their house was like a mansion compared to mine, four bedrooms, two bathrooms, an upstairs and downstairs, it was like a castle. In the kitchen you would see my grandpa sitting in the same chair, drinking the same old coffee, watching the local news and sports on the same tiny tv screen. In the living room my grandma in her chair, probably asleep, the tv playing morning cartoons. And then one day it was all gone…

       Funeral homes. How can two words have such an effect on so many people? I spent have my life in them, watching the ones I love be torn apart from the inside out. In a way I'm used to them, the chills that run down my spine are almost normal. When the phone rings at three in the morning or I get called to leave school in the middle of the day I know that yet again I'll get to visit the funeral home. I didn't ask to become numb and unfazed when I hear I lost someone, and I hope that doesn't make me a bad person, it's just part of my everyday world anymore. Some days I  wish the people I loved didn't have to leave, but I guess when your hear "Their in a better place" so many times, you start to tell yourself that.

       Being the girl who lost half her family before the sophomore year of Highschool I don’t have very many family members at orchestra concerts, soccer games, and swim meets. Most of the time my parents Can’t even make them, so I make do with what I have: My silver necklace. Something about wearing it makes me feel safe and loved, like they are there watching my every bow, every kick, and every stroke.  I can look into the audience and picture them sitting there cheering me on.